Final Curtain Call
by Gabigail
Summary: There’s just something about a Shakespearian tragedy. It’s the final curtain call for the unsub when the BAU is called in to prevent the inevitable.


Disclaimer: Criminal Minds and its characters are the creation of Jeff Davis and are copy written under CBS (as far as I can tell). No infringement upon their rights is intended. The stories written under the penname Gabigail, however, do belong to me. None are written for profit and are intended for entertainment purposes only.

A/N: Thank you to all who have R&R my previous pieces. As always, critique is always a good thing.

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Final Curtain Call

Even with her eyes closed, Mary can still see what lies beyond. The window is covered with some sort of window covering that blackens the room. The floor is exposed concrete. The walls are unfinished drywall, still in dire need of another coat of mud before the sealer and primer can be added. Obviously not a very good job, the drywall tape is still exposed in certain areas. There is a small kitchen like area, a mini-refrigerator, a sink and some sort of hot plate. There is also a very old wooden table, two chairs and the bed; where upon she finds herself restrained. Her eyelids slowly begin to flicker open, as she wills herself to wake. She audibly sighs a heavy sigh of relief, as she is greeted by darkness; a sure fire sign that her captor is either at work or grocery shopping. Of which she is unsure, as the days and nights have melded to the point where she cannot be sure what day it is.

Groaning against the dull pain in her still spinning head, her body still aches from the last time he forced himself on her. Along with the concept of time, she has now forgotten how many times he has done so; finding it easier to close her eyes and her mouth, turn her head away in an attempt to think of something pleasant. Her mind stumbles and she forgets her restraints, but only briefly as she attempts to move her hand to scratch the tip of her nose; and she recalls his explanation.

"These are for your own safety. Wouldn't want you hurting yourself while I'm away." He had said, in a husky whisper in her ear, causing the hair on her neck to stand upright. She also remembers the way his almost caressing tone had made her skin crawl— and she knew better. She knew that they had been employed so that she could not fight back and there would be no trace evidence upon her, should she be found dead.

Once upon a time, many moons ago, a religious young woman, Mary now finds very little comfort in prayer, Her only wonder is what else he has in store for her and when, or if it will end. Any tears shed, have been out of fear towards the man she once trusted— a man, who had been kind to her, plucking her from the chorus and making her a principle actress in the San Francisco amateur theatre group she had been a member of for many years. A man whose face she is sure will forever be etched into her mind for eternity. In the comfort of darkness, thoughts of giving up and letting go cross her mind, but just as quickly, she reminds herself that she cannot let him win, she won't give him the satisfaction— her thoughts interrupted by the sounds of keys jingling on a chain, the found key placed within its sheath and finally, the door swinging open.

"Honey I'm home!" the sound of his singsong tone feels like sandpaper in her ears. Preparing herself for another round of whatever he has in store, she takes a slow, deep breath and manages to keep quiet. Closing her eyes tightly, she can feel the mattress protest underneath her, as he sits himself at the foot of the bed. She can hear the thud of one shoe drop, then the other; followed by the unmistakable clicking of his belt buckle. The bed shifts again as he stands and the quick sharp sound of his zipper being undone, seems to echo in the small space. She fights the urge to utter a sound, instead cringing rather than crying.

Its still very early on a Sunday morning, the bright sunshine is successful in beckoning people from their beds to stroll in the beautiful wooded park. Taking a pause in her regular morning job, Beth stops at a fallen tree and begins her second round of stretches. She raises her foot onto the trunk and guides her upper body along the length of her leg counting to twenty, before changing legs and counting again. She stands straight and lifts her arms over her head, she happens to twist her body to the right, where she catches a glimpse of an exposed foot.

"Oh my!" she exclaims and another jogger stops to see if she is all right. Frozen in her tracks, she can only point.

"Come with me." He says and he moves her away from the body. Whipping out his cell phone he calls the police, who ask that they remain on the scene and not draw any unnecessary attention to the scantly clad body, residing just off the beaten path.

The police are quick in taking the joggers statements and recording their particulars as well, before letting them leave.

"She fits the description of that missing persons report." An officer comments, writes a few notes under the statement in his black notebook and turns away. The medical examiner is crouching over the body, a clipboard in hand, writing preliminary notes.

"Mary Roberts." Another officer states quietly.

"Afraid so. At least it looks that way." She pauses in her surface investigation. "I think we have a problem." Adding under her breath, she carefully pulls back some of the brush and recovers a gold chain.

"I'll get Lambert. I have a feeling this is going to be a bit more complicated." He turns on his heel and makes his way back to their awaiting cars, where many civilians have gathered; their morbid curiosity obvious.

As the team boards the plane late Sunday evening, Elle sighs thinking that this isn't exactly what she had considered wrapping up a quiet weekend at home. They already spent several hours at Quantico, gathering the needed information and discussing a few ideas before Hotchner finally announced their departure. Finding a place to rest her tired body, she reads through the contents of the file given to her, along with the rest of the team back at Quantico. She isn't surprised to find the usual, a sick psychopathic rapist turned killer. Another difficult case for her, she hopes that the nightmares will stay at bay long enough for her to maintain her focus. She wonders why this un-sub has changed his pattern of behaviour so abruptly, noting that he usually amuses himself by terrorising his victims prior to kidnapping them. Odd gifts, if one were to consider dead flowers a gift, and telephone calls late into the night. Once he kidnaps his intended victim, he repeatedly rapes them; and torture has also been evident in the autopsy reports. Once he's had his fill, he brutally murders them, leaving their bodies in plain sight to be discovered by just about anyone who happens to be walking, jogging, or biking through the wooded area.

With a heavy sigh, she pulls out a pen and her usual yellow notepad from her bag to map out her various ideas. She begins by dividing the page into thirds. In one column she writes Caucasian, as the likelihood at this point is extremely high that their un-sub harbours a sick sadistic side. In the next, words and phrases such a calculated method used, pleasure proportionate to the level of pain inflicted upon the victim and probably thinks at some point she asked for it. In the final column, she writes ages and the textbook personality fitting those groups, then looks over her list before circling the late twenties early thirties age range, which would be once again well suited by the methods, skill employed, and reasoning behind the abductions. Her eyes quickly fall on the open file in front of her and she also makes a note that San Francisco authorities are certain that he's been doing this far longer than the recent string of abduction/murders. Assumptions based on how fine-tuned his method is. A younger man wouldn't have the skill, she also adds in the twenty-five and under un-sub category.

Letting the file close, she finds just enough space on her sheet to add the preliminary surface reasoning or stressor that she thinks may assist in uncovering the underline cause of his pattern of behaviour. A broken home, it's possible that there had been a messy divorce, or a lack of father figure. Perhaps if there were a father figure, that figure was incredibly strict. If they were the all American nuclear family, perhaps behind the smiles there was abuse. She quickly writes mental and physical, adding emotional to the list as well. This kind of abuse can occur in either family situation, neither is immune. It's just a matter of figuring out which kind of abuse exactly. She also cannot help but wonder if sexual abuse is also a component to the un-subs behaviour. It's possible that he experienced said abuse by a close family member, a relative, or even an outside individual who the un-sub had trusted at some point, that adversely affected this man. Under her subheading stressors, she starts to add the usual; the loss of job, perhaps even a series of jobs, which can affect the ego. Could it be possible that a girlfriend has recently broken up with him? Maybe even a wife left him and he saw a repeat of his childhood and adolescence flash in front of him. The one question that seems to taunt her is whether or not these stressors are applicable to this case in particular, because from the evidence provided, this behaviour has had to have been going on for quite some time in order for him to have the ability to develop and perfect his technique.

Absently rubbing the back of her neck, Elle flips her notepad over and allows her gaze to sweep over the planes cabin where her colleagues, obviously as warn out as she finds herself this night, have already dozed off. Morgan as per the norm, his iPod serenading him, is fast asleep folded up in one of the overstuffed seats. J.J. sits across the isle, is also napping, her file closed and resting on the table in front of her. Elle spends the longest moment watching Hotchner, who not an hour ago had been content to stare out the window contemplating something of great significance; now seems to have pressed himself uncomfortably against the very window. She allows her expression to soften as her eyes pause over Reid, who has stretched himself across the short couch, looking far younger than his twenty-four years, as one arm is draped over his abdomen and the other has fallen over the edge of the couch, his thin fingers gracefully brush the carpeted floor. Her eyes then fall on the man sitting in front of her. Gideon, like the rest of them, appears to be resting his eyes. His warn and weathered face isn't as serious as it is when he's awake, she lets a small smile creep across her lips as she shifts in her seat. Repositioning herself to side sideways allows her to press herself comfortably into the back of the chair.

It isn't long before she's grasped within the clutches of a nightmare. Her eyes snap open and she finds that everyone else has begun to wake. She hopes that she had a quiet nightmare, that she hadn't been speaking or screaming in her sleep. They quickly take turns freshening up before getting back to business, which happens to be carving out a preliminary game plan. The last to use the facilities, Elle quickly brushes her teeth and runs a comb through her long, wavy brunette hair. Returning to her seat, she finds Hotchner has turned his chair towards group and is in mid-thought.

"We will be taken straight to the police station, where we will be further briefed and given space to set ourselves up." He is very deliberate in his movements as he thumbs through something in the file. "J.J., I presume that you will be prepared to give a press conference?" J.J. looks up from her own file.

"Yes, I have quite a bit of information to work with here, and once I speak with their media relations personal, I'll have exactly what we want the press to know and feed to the public." She replies, letting the file rest open on her thighs.

"Not much was said in the conference room, and I've been wondering why San Francisco PD is asking for our help in this matter. Most local police departments are well-equipped to handle such a situation." Reid straightens in his seat, leaning forwards so that he's part of the conversation.

"Well, the un-sub just happens to have chosen the daughter of the police commissioner as his next target." Hotchner cannot stop the sigh of discontent escaping his lips. Reid allows his expression to drop.

"So they want assistance from a non-connected group then?" he tilts his head, Gideon nods his reply and shifts in his seat.

"We have established his pattern of behaviour." Gideon's voice is authoritative, yet soothing at the same time. He uses his grand hand gestures in regular conversation as much as when he's in front of a large group, an interesting habit, Elle notes as she gears her mind to listen.

"Well I have a feeling that our victims knew their abductor." Elle interrupts. "There is no way that someone with the knowledge that she's the commissioner's daughter would do something so stupid; unless he has an ulterior motive, which will present itself. He's confident, perhaps overly so in his ability not to get caught, he's ballsy, and very selective in his choice of victim. Gideon, when you mentioned an established pattern of behaviour, he probably has had contact in terms of being a friend. Perhaps that friendship grows beyond admiration."

"You're probably right, he must somehow be close to his intended victim, for them to trust him. It's quite possibly that they met in a public place, such as a bookstore or the library. Maybe they hit it off and he takes that as encouragement, even though she's merely being kind. Or maybe they have a cup of coffee and he is able to somehow gain enough trust to get her email address or telephone number." Deep in thought, something akin to a black cloud darkens Reid's eyes.

"What if it isn't a chance face-to-face encounter? What if its observation? Remember the Davenport case? One of our own, using us like hapless pawns to get what he desired."

"Only this un-sub appears to be quite the romantic, actually believing that he is wooing the object of his affection by sending her flowers and whatnot. Not shooting the serious boyfriend before nabbing the girl." Morgan rests his elbows on the table in front of him and brushes his fingers absently against his mouth for a moment in thought.

"It's probably just a method to get their attention." Reid points out as he brushes a strand of fallen hair away from his eyes, then finally tucking the offending strand behind his ear.

"I suppose it's possible that he witnesses her tossing the gift and takes that as a personal attack on him. Even if she is completely unaware of this fact, this is taken as a harsh rejection. It's a distinct possibility that that's the stressor." Reid rests his pointy elbows on his knees and clasps his hands in front of him.

"The problem I have with that theory, is that usually when a man is rejected he gets the picture. This guy takes that as the invitation to pursue his object of affection. To me that's a tad too persistent." J.J. says quickly, glancing out the window at the pitch black beyond.

"Right, by moving onto the next level, the telephone calls, which quickly escalate from harmless hang ups, to innocent chatter, and finally late night taunt fests. The victim then has a reason to be scared." Hotchner shakes his head.

"Well, if his pattern holds true. Then we only have a matter of a couple of days before he moves in on her." Gideon states, running a hand through his hair.

"Wouldn't they have her under some kind of protection?" Morgan inquires as they feel the plane begin its decent.

"You can only do so much with a teenager in the realm of protection." Gideon replies as they gather their belongings and disembark. Getting into the awaiting SUV, they close the doors and the officer pulls onto the main street. "How quickly one forgets what its like to be a teenager and in their position. Teenagers are in a constant state of flux in trying to establish their independence, yet at the same time, they still need the guidance that their parents provide." He adds before turning his gaze towards the window and watching as the sun continues its climb to occupy the daytime sky.

"The good old catch twenty-two." Reid chuckles to himself, as when he allows himself to think back to his own experience of growing up, he realises the lack of true experience he had in that department.

Arriving at the police station, they are immediately whisked into an awaiting private conference room, where it appears that most, if not all of their evidence is already on display on the whiteboard. There are several notes written in and around, in various colours, the many photographs and photocopied reports. As quickly as the door had been closed behind them, it opens and a petite woman briskly enters the room.

"Ah, Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. We spoke over the telephone. I'm Detective Nichole Lambert." They shake hands in greeting. "Special Agent Jason Gideon, I've heard a great deal about you through our grapevine. It is an honour to be working with you. I wish it was under different circumstances." She reaches out to shake his hand. "I'm sure that all of you are well aware of the fact that we have a bit of a situation on our hands." She announces as they sit around the large oblong table. "The police commissioner is absolutely beside himself and has done everything in his power, shy of having his daughter taken to a safe house." Detective Lambert says, standing in front of the team. "I thought that it would be for the best to have a neutral party assist with the investigation. Besides, you're team has the reputation of being the best in the country." She adds with a worried smile.

"When did this begin?" Hotchner inquires, writing something on the page in front of him.

"The last body turned up three days ago. Her name was Mary Roberts. If our suspect is following some sort of established pattern, then he'll have Jordan by morning." She states with a sigh.

"That seems rather quick." Reid makes a face and picks through the pages. "It says here that the un-sub spends several weeks of pursuit prior to contacting them via telephone. That seems to last for a couple of days before he grabs them." He adds. "This is rapid escalation, which would probably also mean that the raping aspect of the crime will be just as fast and furious."

"He probably has his next victim all mapped out. Once he's finished whatever he has in store for Jordan, he'll simply move on." Hotchner adds to Gideon's statement.

"There is something that has altered his comfort level." Gideon pulls out his glasses and in a swift motion places them in their place on the bridge of his nose, then turns back to the open file. "Tell me why they hadn't taken her to the safe house?"

"She refuses to go. Apparently, she's the lead in the school play and it's opening night tomorrow night and will be running all this week." Lambert rolls her eyes. "You'd think a teenage girl would understand the severity of the situation."

"Perhaps, but isn't attempting to be, rather, to act 'normal' part of the victims mentality? Never let him win?" Reid adds, catching Elle's expression,. He doesn't realise how on target he is with his comment. That Elle knows exactly how Jordan feels, that she herself had been the victim of a horrible crime, her mind replays her own experience in lightening speed, but somehow she manages to pull herself together.

"Let me talk to her. Maybe I can show her enough empathy to convince her that going to the safe house is the right thing to do." Elle suggests as she straightens herself in her seat, Gideon can tell in an instant that something is upsetting her.

"There might by a way of allowing her to live a relatively 'normal' life while we track down the un-sub. Right now the un-sub hasn't seen us, unless he's an agent, or law enforcement office, he doesn't know that we're involved. Perhaps she can act in the school play after all. We'll just be in the audience." Morgan looks at her and nods with one of his toothy grins.

"We might even be able to grab him before he harms Jordan or any other girl for that matter." He pauses, "Ell, I like the way you think."

"If you only knew." She says under her breath, the only one to hear her is Gideon, who sits beside her, and almost as though covering for her, he clears his throat.

"I suppose we'll get that interview happening tomorrow morning. Reid, I need you to get a feel for the school. Be sure that you familiarise yourself with the layout, any hidden exists, etcetera. We don't want to leave anything to chance."

"Morgan and I will speak with the commissioner and his wife. Let them in on our plan. Once we've done that, we'll head to the last crime scene just to see if there's anything that local authorities missed." Hotchner writes a few notes and Gideon nods.

"I'll go with Elle." He adds as everyone seems satisfied with their role.

"J.J., I think it's best if we work together in preparing you for the press conference." Detective Lambert says, knowing that she would be left behind to tackle that very difficult issue. J.J. gives her a quick glance to confirm the suggestion and the team files out of the conference room to the awaiting SUV that will take them to their hotel.

The next morning, Reid makes his way to the high school and finds the office where he signs in as a visitor and obtains a map of the school.

"Thanks." He heads out of the office into the deserted hallways. Apparently classes were let out early, something the secretary mentioned as being a shortened period day. A good thing, he muses as he compares the actual layout to the printed map he holds in his hands. Taking a pen from his pocket, he adds an unmapped exit. An easy task, but they need to have a working knowledge of the school if they are to keep Jordan safe. I hope they have some luck in getting the information we need, he thinks as he continues down another hall.

"I don't know where she might have met a man like this." Mrs. Henrys comments, pouring a cup of coffee. "Are you sure you wouldn't care for a cup?" her husband sitting at the kitchen table.

"We're fine, but thank you." Morgan tries not rush. He knows that this is very hard for the family. "Jordan is in her bedroom studying for a test I think. She has to be back at the school tonight by six-thirty. The curtain rises at seven-thirty on the dot, or so she keeps reminding us. Opening night and I think I'm more nervous than she is." Mrs. Henrys' hands tremble slightly, as she places the mug back on the kitchen table, with an audible clink.

"Do you know if she met anyone new within the past, say three weeks?" Morgan inquires as Hotchner observes her behaviour, also keeping a close eye on Mr. Henrys. Gideon and Elle hang in the background, listening to get an idea of the young woman caught in the middle of a psychopath's twisted fantasy.

"Not that I know of. I mean, she has been in rehearsals solid for the past month alone. I don't see how she would meet anyone outside of the theatre group." She pauses for a breath, allowing her to relax slightly.

"She does have a habit of going to the corner bookstore to brows the many volumes of used and rare books with a few of her friends." Mr. Henrys adds.

"Do you know if she had a boyfriend?"

"No, I don't think so. She's been so busy with school, volunteering, the play, and preparing her college applications. Jordan has already written three essays."

"What is she going into?"

"Psychology." Hotchner and Morgan look at each other for a moment.

"Would it be possible to have Elle speak with her?" Gideon inquires in a hushed tone.

"I don't really want to upset her anymore than she already is. She's playing Juliet in _Romeo and Juliet_."

"I won't upset her. I promise you that. I just need to see if there is anything that she might know that could potentially assist us in helping her." Elle maintains a firm, yet gentle tone. Mrs. Henrys nods her understanding. She suddenly goes quiet as Jordan enters the room.

"Mom? Dad? Who are these people?"

"Jordan, this is Special Agent Elle Greenaway. I hope I have that right." She pauses and Elle nods. "She would like to speak to you."

"Will it take long? I don't want to sound rude or anything, but I have to be mentally prepared for tonight." She replies.

"We've told you that we don't want you doing this." Her mother seems to fret over her daughter, reaching out and gently touches Jordan's long silky hair.

"No, I promise that I won't keep you long." Elle adds. "Is there a place where we can speak in private?"

"Let me just grab a quick snack and we can go outside if you like."

"Sounds good." Elle waits and then follows Jordan out to the backyard and the garden that lies just beyond the stone patio.

"This suck you know? I have a show to do and my parents are totally freaking out!" Jordan exclaims as she peels the orange. Holding out a piece towards Elle, they keep walking.

"I can understand how you feel, yet at the same time, you have to realise how serious the situation is." Elle explains as they sit on a bench.

"I know that he's hurt those other girls, but he isn't going to harm me."

"You know that how exactly?" Elle inquires.

"Agent Greenaway, you have to know that I've heard my parents talking at night when they think that I'm asleep." She rolls her eyes.

"The un-sub has suddenly escalated. Tell me if I'm wrong, but I'm thinking that he has contacted you late at night. Am I right?" Jordan pales slightly.

"It isn't like that."

"Then why don't you tell me what it is like, so I can understand."

"I don't know for sure, but I know that he would never hurt me."

"Who?"

"Mark Stevens. He isn't like that." She adds as she lifts a long, lean leg and rests her foot on the bench, hugging her knee to her chest.

"This Mark, what kind of young man is he?"

"I've known him since we started at this school. We're pretty good friends." Pausing in thought. "You don't think that he's behind this do you?"

"Right now, we can't rule anything out." Elle replies. "If there is anything else that you can think of, please give me a call." She adds and hands Jordan one of her cards.

"Thanks." Jordan replies.

"I appreciate your co-operation. I hope that tonight goes well for you. Juliet in the school play, huh? That's pretty neat." They stand and Jordan opens the gate that leads into the colourful garden and the beyond.

"I love the stage. I long for the day that it's my home." She says brightly and heads back into the house leaving Elle on the patio to think about the interview. Resting her hands firmly on the stone banister, she sighs heavily in an attempt to gather her emotions. Working on this case has stirred the memories she has spent years trying to suppress of a rather persistent young man, who had attained what he wanted by sheer force and left her an emotional wreck. She hears the screen door gently open and close, followed by soft footsteps on the patio stone.

"I presume my asking if you're okay isn't quite what you want to talk about. Is it?" his words are soft and gentle, laced with concern. He stands beside her and rests his hands on the banister, their hands almost touching; she turns to face him, leaning her arm on the banister.

"That's right." She answers a little too harshly, even in her own ears. "I'm sorry." She digs her hands into the pockets of her jean jacket, she then looks down at her feet. "I know that it's difficult to help someone who fights your assistance every step of the way, but I just wish there was something that we could do to fix it." He gives her a knowing wink and then they go inside to meet the others before collecting Reid and J.J. to have dinner at a nearby restaurant. They have a play to attend this evening.

Wanting to be sure that the area is secure, Elle takes one last walk around the empty halls of the high school before re-entering the theatre. It feels as though she's actually been transported as the stage lights are dimmed, creating the blue night sky for lovers.

"She speaks! O, speak again, bright angel!" the young man on the stage wears tights well, she scolds herself for thinking. "For thou art as glorious to this night, being o'er my head. As is winged messenger of heaven unto the white-upturned wonder eyes of mortals that fall back to gaze on him when he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds and sails upon the bosom of the air." Romeo professes with the same passion as any Romeo that Elle has witnessed on stage or film. The most famous scene reminds her of her high school days studying Shakespeare and wondering why.

"O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?" Jordan's gaze falls beyond her Romeo towards the audience that she has no trouble captivating. Spotting her Romeo, she clutches at her breast. "Deny thy father and refuse thy name, or if thou wilt not be, but sworn my love and I'll no longer be a Capulet." Her declaration continues to pull at the heartstrings of the audience, as Elle can see by the looks upon their faces, that she has more than adequately evoked the needed emotion of the scene; far beyond most. Young Romeo leans towards the audience to include them in his thought.

"Shall I hear more, of shall I speak at this?" Elle's eyes adjust to the dim light and she allows her glance to sweep over the isles. Everything appearing satisfactory, she slips out through the door and once more makes sure that the vacant halls remain that way.

"Everything is beyond expected." The drama teacher whispers into Jordan's ear backstage. "All ready for your big death scene?" she nods and takes a breath. Elle stands beside Hotchner.

"I don't like his proximity to Jordan." She whispers, he tilts his head.

"They have probably spent hours upon hours working on this play. I'm sure it's nothing." He replies as Jordan prepares herself and steps onto the stages, once more as Juliet, ready to rest within the Capulet's tomb. The potion wears off and as with Shakespeare's tragedies, Juliet awakens, only to find that nothing had gone according to their careful planning.

"O, comfortable friar! Where is my lord? I do remember well where I should be, and here I am. Where is my Romeo?" she converses with Friar Laurence, who at the sound of something he equates with ghostly spirits, makes his way off stage. Jordan continues onwards off the stage, the stagehands set and dress the stage for the final scene.

"What's here? A cup closed in my true loves hand? Poison I see, hath been his timeless end. O churl! Drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after? I kiss thy lips, haply some poison doth hang on them to make die with a restorative." She drags out the moments perfectly before bending over her Romeo to grant him one final passion filled kiss. "Thy lips are warm." Again, she pauses startled.

"Lead boy, which way?" she hears the watchman's warnings. Taking a deep breath, she looks around the quiet tomb.

"Yea, noise? Then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!" she reaches over and snatches Romeo's dagger from its sheath. "This is thy sheath!" she exclaims, stabbing herself. "There rust, and let me die." Her final words as she falls upon her Romeo, just as the watchmen enter the tomb with Pairs on his heels.

"For never was a story of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo." The final words seem to echo throughout the theatre and the curtain gracefully falls to boisterous applause. Backstage, the drama teacher is frantically getting his players together.

"Places everyone." He directs them in their curtain call order and the curtain is reopened. The supporting players step out into the vast applause and take their bows, followed by the individual leads, each receiving thunderous, almost deafening applause. Jordan receives a bouquet of red roses from an audience member, Gideon speaks into the communication device hooked up to the sleeve of his jacket and Hotchner is backstage waiting for her.

"May I?" he inquires and she nods her ascent. He plucks the note that had been carefully tucked within. Reading the note, his expression darkens and he immediately begins to scan the backstage area, as Gideon, Reid and Morgan are sure to keep an eye on the doors as the audience files out towards the front foyer, where the reception is being held.

"I have to go to the reception. You don't just pull off the performance of a lifetime and not meet with the public. I'm sure the scout from Julliard was in attendance and I want to be sure to make a good impression."

"Jordan." Her father's tone is stern as is his expression.

"Will someone tell me what the matter is? Who were the flowers from?" she demands.

"I can't tell you that." Hotchner replies motioning for Elle to join them.

"If I stay with Elle, will you let me at least do my rounds?" Elle shakes her head in protest.

"I see no reason why not." Hotchner says lightly and Jordan grabs Elle and drags her out to the reception before she can give Hotchner the look of death.

With the success of opening night, the schools journalists are out in full force, getting the scoop from their lead actress.

"How do you prepare for such a role?" one asks.

"With a reaction like that, are you looking forward to attending Julliard?" another inquires, all have pens poised for her answers. Others follow, swarming around Jordan, who seems at ease, answering their questions like a pro. Satisfied with her answers, they leave her to do her rounds, with Elle in tow; the others not far behind in the event that their assistance is necessary.

Bounding from the car, Jordan nearly floats up the front stairs to the front door. Her father unlocks the door and she saunters in.

"That was absolutely incredible!" her voice fills the foyer and she nearly spins herself into the table for her excitement.

"You did good kid." Her father beams and gives her a quick peck on the cheek as they move into the living room. Jordan's expression suddenly falls flat and her face pales at the first ring of the telephone.

"Don't answer it." She snaps. Elle motions for Gideon, who picks up the telephone.

"Henrys residence." He keeps his tone even and unassuming so that the voice on the other end doesn't suspect anything.

"Good evening, are you new? I haven't heard your voice before. May I speak with Jordan please?"

"May I ask who's calling?" he waits for an answer.

"Yes, of course. Sorry. My name is Mark." The young man's voice replies.

"Just a moment please." Gideon tucks the receiver under his arm so that Mark isn't able to hear their end of the conversation. "Mark?"

"He's my best friend." She replies with a sigh of relief. "I'll take it in my room, if that's okay." She adds running upstairs two at a time. Elle nods and Gideon waits until he hears her voice.

"Don't you dare." Elle gives him a quick stare. Understanding, he carefully places the receiver in the cradle.

"Elle, did you think that I was going to listen in on their conversation?"

"I wouldn't put anything past you. Especially, if it might pertain to a case." She sighs and sits in a chair.

"So what's our game plan?" Reid inquires from his corner. "We really don't have sufficient evidence."

"I don't know about that. We have managed to keep her safe thus far." Hotchner replies. "Perhaps it is possible that."

"The un-sub has moved onto his next victim." Morgan cuts him off and springs to his feet.

"Morgan!" Gideon calls after him, but the younger agent flies out the door. "Let him go. He needs to do whatever it is he has to." He adds, placing his hands on the chesterfields back and leans against it. "What we do know is that once the nightly calls begin its only a matter of days before he kidnaps his victims. So far, we have him out smarted."

"You're concerned that we won't be able to maintain that advantage?" Reid's eyebrows furrow.

"I think we should be." Hotchner replies.

"What does this mean? She has school and performances the rest of this week. Are you going to shadow her?" Mr. Henrys inquires going to the kitchen for a glass of water.

"Right now, until the un-sub either attempts to complete his pattern of behaviour or completely deviate from it, we wait." Hotchner replies. "I suppose everything is okay for the evening. We'll have an undercover attend Jordan's classes with her and be sure that the play is also well attended by plain clothes." He adds and they bid the Henrys a good evening.

"It has to be someone that she trusts." Gideon states as Hotchner guides the SUV into a vacant slot at the hotel.

"Could it be Mark?" Reid asks in a quiet tone.

"I don't know. Jordan said that they have been friends since they started at the high school. I know the likelihood is still rather high, but he honestly seems harmless. Besides, he's her age; and I highly doubt that he would do something so heinous as kidnap, rape, and murder young women." Elle thinks for a moment. "Its not him, but it is defiantly someone she is close to."

"We'll just have to get a better list of friends and acquaintances. Once we have that, we can get Garcia to do as an in depth background check as she can." Reid suggests.

"Starting to think like Morgan there." J.J. taps his arm as they walk through the lobby towards the elevators. "It's been a long day. I'll catch you guys tomorrow." She announces getting off on her floor.

"Night J.J." the chorus reply groggily.

J.J.'s press conference begins without a hitch, with most of the media sympathetic towards the victim's families. Usually, she feels like the sheep sent to the slaughter house, as it's usually one question after another, all leading the public to believe that the FBI is incapable of assisting the local police, who are just as, if not more incompetent.

"Right now, local police have set up a tip line. If anyone has any information, please call, no matter how insignificant you believe the information to be." She is calm and confident in front of the pack of reporters biting at the bit.

"Does he or doesn't he have the Henrys girl?" a reporter shouts out. J.J.'s expression doesn't waver. That's one piece of information that they definitely do not wish the public to have.

"Right now we are still investigating. Once we have the pieces we need, we will move forward and make an arrest. Until then, we ask for the public's assistance and understanding in this matter. Thank you." She nods and turns back to the station.

The police station is a bustle with officers dealing with the every day workload. Without having access to their conference room, some can be heard mumbling their complaints. The team, however, remains focused on making sure that their un-sub doesn't succeed in kidnapping Jordan.

"Use her as bait then." Mr. Henrys enters the conference room.

"Mr. Henrys, that's highly inadvisable."

"Jordan will never feel free if she's constantly looking over her shoulder. She wants to help in any way she can, if that means sending her to him."

"NO! I will not have it." Gideon stands his ground.

"Gideon, may I have a word?" Elle interjects. "No offence guys, but in private?" he nods and they head out of the room.

"Is there an empty office or interrogation room that we could us?" he asks Detective Lambert.

"Yes, of course, follow me." She replies and leads them down the hall.

"Thank you." Gideon gestures for Elle to have a seat, which she does and he sits in the seat across her. "What's on your mind?" he inquires leaning towards her and resting his elbows on his thighs. She looks down at her own hands that she folded in her lap.

"I know what Jordan is going through." She replies.

"Elle? Is there something that I should know?"

"I've never really liked to talk about it." She continues to hold her gaze firmly on the floor in a very Reid like fashion, almost as though there is something far more interesting about her shoes.

"I know I can't force you into telling me, but if it's going to affect you during the case, I worry." He reaches out and takes her hand. A gentle squeeze of reassurance and she lets the smile work it's way across her berry painted lips. "What happened to you?"

"I made sure that it wasn't in my file."

"Elle?"

"I was raped in college. The usual suspect, the captain of the football team. As with anything not becoming of the colleges reputation, the dean was sure to sweep it under the rug."

"I had no idea. You should have let someone know."

"They would automatically assume that I wouldn't be able to do my job."

"Hence, your specialty?" his eyes show a great deal of emotion.

"Not exactly. I was well into my program when it happened. Actually, I felt more ashamed because I knew the statistics. I knew the variables. I should have known better." Looking down she fixes her gaze back on her shoe. "Regardless of what I wanted, the dean made it disappear. He wasn't even suspended. The finals were a few weeks away and apparently the team needed him. Needless to say, we won the championship. I tried everything to get someone to take notice. I tried the legal route, pressing charges, but somehow, they never stuck. Everything seemed to go away until after convocation. That's when the threats started and for seven years, I lived with the constant fear that he might come back to finish what he started. There are times I still feel that he's just around the corner ready to pounce. I don't know if you truly ever get over that kind of experience."

"If I had known, I would never have been so hard on you all the time." He looks down at his own hands. "I know that it's still very much the gentleman's club and emotions and whatnot are to be kept in check, as they are seen as a weakness. Elle, don't feel that you need to hide anything from me." He adds and brushes the tears from her chin.

"Thanks Gideon. I just want to be sure that Jordan doesn't have to feel that no one is helping her. We have to catch the bastard who's frightening her. She doesn't need this stress."

"I know, and you know what?"

"We will. It's only a matter of time, which I fear we are running out of." She adds straightening up.

"We will – and Elle?"

"Yes, Gideon."

"Don't forget what it is to be human." He adds with a wink and she sniffles. "Are you going to be okay to rejoin the team?" she makes sure that all the tears are gone and stands.

"I think that he will travel off the beaten path, so to speak." Reid says standing, examining the crime scene photographs.

"What makes you think that?" Hotchner seems to be following the triple doctors idea.

"He usually works within a certain framework. I have a suspicion that even though we have managed to maintain an unofficial presence, the only evidence of our being here was J.J.'s press conference, we still have the upper hand."

"Reid's right. They know that we are assisting, but they don't know who we are." Morgan chuckles. "We can so use that to our advantage."

"Unless, of course, our un-sub has seen us around one too many times." Hotchner lets out a breath. "Lets work within our own framework and get this guy. Jordan has performances for the rest of this week. Let's try and keep it as comfortable for her as we can."

"I'd say she's doing a fairly good job." Elle says in a quiet tone, that doesn't alert anyone except Gideon. He looks at her and she quickly breaks eye contact. "I'm going to try talking to a few people on Garcia's list, someone might know something." A curt knock and the door opens, Lambert enters and closes the door behind her.

"I'm not exactly sure how to say this." She says handing Hotchner the file in her hand. He opens it and pales slightly.

"When?"

"Right now, the coroner has it clocked sometime last night." She replies. "Poor Jordan." She whispers. Elle's eyes widen once she steals a look at the file he holds.

"No kidding." She exclaims leaving the conference room and heading straight to Jordan's.

"She's been in her room all day." Mrs. Henrys exclaims, opening the door to allow Elle inside.

"When did you get the news?" Elle inquires.

"He was called away at three this morning." She replies and Elle heads upstairs to see Jordan. She knocks softly on the closed door.

"Go away!" she exclaims. Elle responds by knocking again before opening the door.

"Jordan?"

"Elle? Why are you here?" her eyes are blood shot, she looks as though she couldn't possibly have any more tears to shed.

"I came to see how you're doing." She replies, still standing on the threshold. "May I come in?"

"Of course." She moves on her bed and dabs at her eyes with a tissue. "What am I to do? How could this happen? Why would someone do that?" she mumbles quietly, until she cannot speak.

"I know that none of this makes sense right now. I cannot say that I know exactly how you feel, because everyone feels differently." Elle sits beside her and reaches out, rubbing Jordan across her shoulders. Jordan nearly crashes into her in hysterical sobs, her mother standing at the open door watching, pain in her expression.

"I can't go on tonight." She sobs. "How could I when Mark has been such an amazing friend to me through this. He's been there for me through my moments of extreme stage fright, he ran lines with me, helped me with my audition pieces, even helped me write a monologue." Elle can hear the pain in her tone.

"Jordan, whatever you decide. Know that he will be behind you as you have been, and continue to be, for him." Elle realises how lame her words sound, but at the very least they will offer the teen a smidgen of comfort. "You said yourself that the stage is your home. Wouldn't Mark want you to be where you're most comfortable?"

"He won't be there. I always had him within my vision." She pauses for a moment. "That way I knew I'd be safe." Trying to straighten herself, Jordan covers her face with her hands.

"You are safe. Mark will continue to keep you safe." Elle wishes she had more at her disposal.

"Will you be there tonight?" Jordan's voice is small.

"If you want me there."

"Then I had better pull myself together." She stands and looks at her reflection in the mirror. "I hope they have a lot of makeup." She turns to her mother, who immediately closes the distance between them and hugs her protectively. "Thank you." She adds and Elle nods reassuringly before making the arrangements needed for the evening's performance.

Gideon sits beside her at the table, knowing that the case is upsetting her and wanting to reinforce the offer that if she needed to talk, he would be there to listen.

"He's completely off script." Reid opens the conversation after their food arrives.

"If that was our un-sub." Morgan adds, as he cuts into his stake.

"Is it a possibility that it isn't our un-sub?" J.J. inquires, before placing the forkful of lettuce greens in her mouth.

"No, it's definitely him." Elle states.

"We don't even have a name." Reid points out, not realising that he's using his fork for emphasis as the frustration is evident in both his tone and features.

"True, but we have a solid profile and I'm batting a thousand that he will be in attendance tonight." Elle manages to contain herself.

"I cannot believe that Jordan is going through with tonight's performance." J.J. says quietly.

"She's doing it for Mark." Elle replies and looks down at her plate.

"What did you say to her?" Hotchner's thick eyebrows arch in response.

"Nothing." She doesn't lift her gaze.

"Hotch." Gideon says simply and seemingly changing the direction of the conversation.

"Sorry to cut dinner short. I gave her my word that I would be there tonight. I don't want to be late." Elle adds, getting some money from her wallet, and quickly putting it on the table.

"I'm coming with." Gideon adds to her pile and they leave.

"Is she okay?" Reid asks, concern for his colleague.

"Yeah sure she is." Morgan says sitting back. Hotchner watches them through the window, his expression dark, knowing that Elle's hiding something and Gideon's assisting her in keeping whatever her secret is, a secret.

The curtain falls upon another successful performance. Jordan once again receives red roses and this time Gideon is there to confiscate the small card nestled between the perfect buds. Jordan doesn't question the reason why, she hands her flowers to another actress and heads towards the dressing room to change and remove the layers of makeup that had been plastered on her face. Elle and Gideon remain outside, along with Jordan's parents, an undercover policewoman is inside the dressing room.

Jordan sits in front of the mirror for a long moment, just staring at her reflection in thought of Mark. This one was for you, she muses as she reaches out towards the makeup remover. Saturating a cotton ball, she carefully runs the oily liquid over her face before going to the adjoining bathroom to finish removing the makeup. The warm water seems to help her relax and she carefully finishes her routine.

"Bravo." She hears his the warm familiar tone of his voice as she pats her face dry. "I don't believe that I've ever seen Juliet played with quite so much passion." He adds stepping into the room.

"Thank you Mr. Andrews." She replies, still unaware of the undercover policewoman, unconscious and tucked away in a closet. "I'm glad it was to your liking." She adds turning to face him, her eyes still revealing the pain she feels. He reaches out towards her.

"I'm so very sorry for your loss." He strokes her cheek, and in that moment she realises that something isn't right. Attempting to back away, she finds herself cornered, as he blocks the only door.

"I have to go. My parents are waiting for me." She adds innocently, trying not to let on that she suspects something.

"He wasn't supposed to die. He got in the way." His words resonate in her ears.

"Mark got in the way of what?" she blinks.

"My having what I've always wanted." He replies moving towards her. Still trying to back away, Jordan finds herself pressed against the counter. For her, it feels as though she is in a dream and somehow her reflexes are not co-operating, as he manages to cover her mouth with a piece of material so her screams would be mere whimpers, her attempts to resist are futile and he easily over powers her. Tying her wrists behind her back, he quickly scoops her up in his arms and heads towards the dressing rooms back exit. An exit he happened to have cleverly covered with stage dressing so that when Reid had done his preliminary layout, it went undiscovered.

Trying to throw him off balance, by squirming as much as possible, he finally has to drop her.

"Why couldn't you see what was right in front of you?" he demands as tears run down her cheeks. "Don't cry. I really don't want to hurt you. I only want you to know." Her mind reeling, Jordan tries not to look at him, he opens a car door and tosses her into the back seat. She can hear the car start, but cannot get herself untangled enough to sit up and see where he is taking her, nor let anyone else know that she's being kidnapped.

"I really doubt that he's going to harm her. Right now at least." Hotchner comments quietly as the team assembles in the dressing room, the breeze causing the material to dance. Reid frowns. "What is it?" he watches as Reid quickly makes his way towards the material.

"This wasn't here when I examined the layout. I can't believe it!" he pulls back the torn material and lets it fall back against the open door.

"Hey man, don't worry. We'll find her." Morgan taps the young mans shoulder and turns back towards Gideon. "I'll have Garcia get me an address for Andrews." He whips out his phone and hits the saved number.

"Garcia, I need an address for Simon Andrews."

"Say no more, hot stuff." She snaps her gum and Morgan can hear the lightening speed click of the keys, her nails probably painted some far out colour, a thought he doesn't hide the toothy grin.

"Anything sweetness?"

"Of course. He's a bad boy." Her reply stresses the 'bad' in bad boy.

"What has he done?"

"Where does one begin? Let's see. As an adolescent he ran with a pretty wild bunch. He's been arrested several times for theft." She pauses; he assumes that she's quickly skimming the contents of the electronic file in front of her. "Get this, he has several sexual harassment investigations. Apparently, he likes the young ladies. The last was Mary Roberts. She played the lead in the previous years school play."

"Another Shakespearian tragedy?" Morgan wonders.

"Nope, _Much Ado About Nothing_." She sits back in her seat.

"If you look back at all the victims, I'll bet you'll find that they were his leading ladies."

"Sunshine, I was just going to say that. A leading lady from the last five schools as turned up dead."

"Yet he's gone off script with Mark Stephens." He says.

"He must have suspected that she was interested in the younger man." She replies, flipping her hair with her technicolour pen. "By the way. His address." She adds and he scribbles it on a piece of paper.

"Thanks doll." He cuts their connection and puts his cell phone in its holder on his belt. "We don't have a lot of time." He states.

"I'll call the local authority and have them meet us there." Hotchner nods towards the door and they quickly make their way to their SUV.

"What am I suppose to tell her parents?" Elle wonders out loud.

"Don't put all of this on yourself." Gideon puts a reassuring hand on her knee and she covers his hand with hers.

"I hope we're not too late. If he harms her in any way, he'll have me to answer to." She turns her attention to the scenery passing by. Dim streetlights, are a blur as are the trees that look more like twisted dark shadows, casting their evil net over the road.

Nearly slamming her into a nearby wall, Jordan feels dizzy, almost as though the wind has been knocked from within her, she crumples to the floor, happy to close her eyes. Simon paces from one side of the room to the other.

"Why?" he says once more, stopping and kneeling in front of her. "How could you possibly want to be with that boy?" he demands as though she could answer him. Finding a way to sit up, the dizziness slowly ceases, she pleads with her eyes. Pleads that he will not harm her, to take the material away from her now cotton dry mouth.

"I suppose it was only natural. You're young and beautiful, he was bound to fall for you, but I MADE YOU!" his words hard and twisted in her ears. "If it weren't for my help, you'd still be some unknown in the background. You belong to me." He stands again and paces to the other side of the room before returning and leaning over her. Kneeling in front of her again. "Why?" again, she cannot answer. "Will you scream?" she shakes her head. Everything that she had overheard her parents talking about kidnapping cases comes to mind and she waits. "If you scream, you're as good as dead!" she stares at him, hoping that he understands her wish to co-operate. He unties the material and it falls around her shoulders, then into her lap.

"Mr. Andrews. I don't understand." She can hardly find her voice, let alone the empathy for the man in front of her.

"Your so beautiful." He coos and runs a finger down her cheek. "Soft, flawless skin. So talented, so easy to mould." He adds, running the same finger just under the already low-cut bodice.

"Please don't." she whispers knowing how dire her situation. He continues in his exploration, running his hands down her body over the silky material.

"So perfect." His breath, warm caressing her ear, his lips just graze her ear lope.

"Mr. Andrews stop!" her voice a rasp in her own throat as his hands wander over the folds of the Elizabethan gown. She feels helpless, with her hands bound and her legs folded underneath her, she cannot fight back. "Wait!" she hopes that catering to him will buy her some time. Hopefully someone will have noticed her missing and are on their way. Whichever way she looks at it, she knows that he will have his way with her.

"What is it?" he pulls himself away from her.

"If I'm bound, doesn't it spoil it for you?" she inquires.

"I'm not falling for that my dear." He smirks, the pale light making the glassiness in his eyes ever more apparent. Looking down she lets the tears she hadn't shed, fall freely down her once porcelain cheeks. He reaches out and wipes them gently, his touch soft and caring. She wonders if she can at least use his display of actual affection to her advantage.

"Why like this?"

"Like what?"

"In a cold, damp basement?" she questions him, trying to keep him talking. At the very least she can stall the inevitable, maybe even prevent it.

"Spoils the mood, I know. I'm sorry my love, I didn't have a chance to decorate before bringing you here. The play took up all my spare time. Time I spent watching you, loving you from a distance." He stands and double-checks that the door is locked.

"Are you sure that this is the place?" Elle asks Morgan as he pulls into the driveway.

"It's the address Garcia gave me. She's never been wrong before." He adds and cuts the engine. "Damn!" he exclaims, as they are the only ones on the scene.

"I don't like the looks of this." Reid comments under his breath. Elle gives him a quick look and opens the door.

"Elle!" Gideon exclaims catching up.

"What? I'm not going to let him hurt her. If I have to, I will kill him."

"Think of the paperwork." J.J. says from the car.

"Who cares? He's done enough damage. If she lives through this, she'll be broken." She tries the front door, which unsurprisingly is locked. "Morgan?" she gestures to him to kick in the door.

"Are you sure? Why not try a less dramatic way?" she goes to answer, however, Gideon nods his agreement with Elle.

"We don't have time." He says under his breath. Drawing their weapons, Morgan kicks the door in and leads them inside. Hotchner motions for Reid and Morgan to take the upstairs, he and J.J. cover the main floor, leaving Elle and Gideon the basement.

Hearing the crash of the door, Jordan breathes a sigh of relief as Andrews' agitation grows— beads of sweat dampening his forehead.

"I wish you hadn't done this." She says.

"Be quite!" he responds and paces back and forth, knowing that it's only a matter of time before they break down the only door left between them.

Quickly checking the various rooms, Elle and Gideon arrive at the final door. Elle is poised as Gideon shoots the lock and the door opens freely.

"I'll kill her." Simon says simply as he holds Jordan in front of him as a shield; in his other hand he holds a knife, pressing the edge into her throat and all she can do is wince with fear.

"FBI!" Elle's tone is beyond authoritative and the rest of the team quickly head down to the basement.

"You wouldn't." He taunts her, then kisses Jordan's temple, being sure to add further insult to injury.

"Elle, please help." Jordan manages as his grip around her slender torso tightens, like that of a boa constrictor, causing her breath to become shallow gasps.

"You know she can't help you!" he exclaims with a thick vampire like smile that basically states he's ready to suck her dry.

"I'm serious Simon, you might really want to rethink your actions." Elle, although filled with emotion, manages to keep her tone level.

"You don't have the skill." He continues to trail kisses down her jaw line, then lower, towards her collarbone.

"Do you honestly want to find out?" Gideon's tone serious, standing behind her, his weapon also drawn, finger not quite on the trigger.

"She's a crack shot." Hotchner says from behind them. "You're cornered. You have no alternative, but to let her go and turn yourself in." he adds, using reason as his weapon.

"You've ruined my play!" he exclaims. "Juliet dies, she always dies." He tosses Jordan towards Elle and Gideon quickly catches her before she hits the floor. A shot is fired and Simon seems to crumple to the floor as the leg shot throws him off balance. J.J. grabs her cell phone and calls an ambulance and Hotchner quickly cuffs Simon.

"Morgan, will you give me a hand?" he inquires as Elle unties Jordan's small hands. "Jordan!" Gideon exclaims to stop her from getting too close, as she grabs the material and breaks in between them to wrap it around Simon's injured leg. Morgan and Hotchner carefully pick Simon up and take him out the front door where local police and ambulances are waiting. A news crew, probably getting their information on the wire, has also set up and are trying to get answers. It's a jumbled mess and Jordan is put into one ambulance to be taken to a hospital and Simon another.

Elle catches up to the paramedics before they drive Jordan off.

"Are you okay?" she inquires, brushing the hair from Jordan's face.

"Yeah."

"He didn't?"

"No." Elle heaves a sigh of relief as a paramedic moves her out of the way so they can take her to the hospital. Standing alone, amongst the chaos, Elle runs her hand through her hair, and then quickly wipes the tears from her eyes. Gideon makes his way towards her and clearing his throat, she turns to look at him.

"I'm fine." She tries to smile, but somehow it doesn't feel right. Knowing what she's going through, he merely presses a comforting hand on her back, directing her towards the SUV.

It's a satisfying sense of completion, when a case happens to have a cue happy music ending, and the team can chalk another point in the 'win' column as they board the plane for home. Once they are air born, J.J. moves to sit across from Hotchner, to go over their files, finishing final comments, excreta. Elle notices that Morgan has quickly put the iPod ear buds in his ears and seems to be buckling down for some much needed rest. Reid has once again pulled out the chessboard and she watches as he and Gideon set their pieces in place. Reid begins and she can see the gears of Gideon's mind at work; three moves ahead, the action, the reaction, and finally moves his first piece. The serious look upon his face, showing his opponent, no mercy.

Moving towards the short couch, Elle removes her shoes and lays herself on her side. Her head touches the soft pillow and closing her eyes, her last thought is of their success in preventing Simon from hurting Jordan, a thought that somehow seems to offer her solace and hopefully will allow for a comfortable slumber. Reid moves another piece, countering one of Gideon's signature moves.

"Check in three." He sits back, hoping to contain himself. Gideon's mind, however, is elsewhere and he quickly counters the move.

"Checkmate." He says quietly to his astonished opponent. Reid checks the board to see if there's a way to redeem himself. Unable to find one, he nods his defeat. "Maybe next time." Gideon comments and they put their board away. Reid sits back in his seat and finds a comfortable way to lounge.

As per the norm when chasing down a sexual predator, Elle is a half and half mixture of exhaustion and emotionally drained, as Gideon notices sleep cradling her in her arms, much the same as a caring parent. Getting up, he finds a blanket from the bulkhead. He holds the corers and allows it to unfold. Being in the state she is in, Elle doesn't feel the blanket, as caring hands gently drape it over her.

Shakespeare, William. _Romeo and Juliet_.  
http/www-tech. (April 29th, 2006).


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